


The Prurient ManBearMaid

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Awkward Boners, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Feels, Flirting, Fluff, Kissing, Love, POV Alternating, Porn, Post - A Dance With Dragons, Roughness, Sexual Content, Smut, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-13 11:00:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2148219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaime and Brienne are traveling on an unnamed quest. While on the road they duel for fun, share their first kiss, and likely have sex (maybe). Interspersed with some emotions dealing with Jaime's past with Cersei and whether or not Brienne wants to give up being a maid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Brienne

**Author's Note:**

> Mostly inspired by the podcast 'Close the Door and Come Here' and my dirty, dirty mind. This is my first fanfiction. Open to feedback. Enjoy!

“Come now, Maid of Tarth, the sun is setting and we are yet to have a victor.” Jaime told her as they squared up against each other. They were in a small clearing near a rock face far away from the road.

Brienne picked up her shield that had been painted with the elm and falling star. It was the last piece to her full suit of plate, sans helm. Jaime had been the one to suggest sparring in heavy armor since fighting out of armor was as useful as learning to swim without getting wet. 

“Oak and iron guard me well.” Brienne said as she hefted the shield to her shoulder.

Jaime scoffed, “What was that?”

“Just something I say sometimes before a fight. I just like the sound of it.”

“A maid enjoys a nursery rhyme.” He teased. That grin made her wish he were more homely.

Brienne replied with drawing her practice sword and pointed it at his head.

Jaime clicked disapprovingly. “Tsk tsk. Shame to leave such a lovely weapon as Oathkeeper sheathed away in a fight with the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.”

Brienne refused, “No, Jaime. It’s Valyrian steel. One missed parry and you’d die. And you call me thick as a castle wall!”

“I despise using sparring swords. Please, I insist.” The humor in voice faded away. “Brienne, I trust you.” It was the same tone he had used when he asked for a truce in their bath at Harrenhal. It made her knees wobble and her stomach knot.

She knew there was nothing she could do to change his mind. So be it. She would try to pull her attacks as much as she could, but she knew that wasn’t always possible in the heat of battle. Especially against someone as provoking as Jaime Lannister. _Maybe losing an ear or a few pints of blood will stop his jeering._ She unsheathed Oathkeeper and bared the crimson folded steel of her weapon to Jaime.

They circled each other, shifting directions and stances, searching for an opening. Their matched moves resembled a dance. She would’ve felt silly about it if not for the cold steel in her hand.

Combat made her whole body boil with energy. She knew it made Jaime feel alive too. After a few strokes of the sword the muscles around her mouth began to ache. She was smiling a lot. That didn’t normally happen when she fought. This was sport, this was fun. She wondered if this was how proper ladies felt while dancing.

Jaime advised her. “You’re skilled at working the sword, but you excel at close-quarters brawling. The only time I’ve seen equal ferocity is from a Clegane. Use it to your advantage; don’t be afraid to get in close.” 

His words might be true, but she suspected Jaime’s advice had the added intention of drawing her into more intimate positions. He’d been making advances toward her since they escaped Lady Stoneheart, but Brienne found them to be more endearing than annoying.

Brienne swung before replying. “And you’d do well to keep quiet while fighting!” Her words drew an indignant look from Jaime as their weapons locked together, and she used the brief hesitation to strike again, this time with an armored elbow to his sternum. He was right, she was good at brawling.

Though his breastplate protected him from injury, the impact was enough to jolt him into taking the fight seriously. She wanted to fight, and a fight without any challenge wasn’t a fight at all.

Jaime tried to push her away after the hard elbow, but he couldn’t match her strength. Her legs were two weirwoods and her returning shove was like a wave from Shipbreaker Bay crashing against him. 

Their swords kissed again. The contact ran electricity up her arm. Sparks flew from the grinding steel. Where Brienne blocked with a shield Jaime would simple dodge effortlessly away from her blade. They backed off again to dance another circle around each other, swords pointed towards each other. Jaime tilted his head and looked behind Brienne.

Brienne knew the feint for what it was and knocked his sword away, but Jaime followed with a twirl, spinning around behind her. His arms wrapped about her shoulders like a cloak. He leaned in and whispered something filthy in her ear. Her cheeks broiled and she threw her arms up to heave off his embrace.

 _Words are wind. Don’t let him get to you._ Brienne parried, but didn’t press for several moves. She could feel his frustration. She was back in control. Until a golden hand suddenly struck the side of her head.

“Ugh. That wasn’t very knightly of you.” Brienne dropped her shield to feel the side of her face for damage. It was numb but otherwise intact save for some blood.

“Plan on fighting only knights, do you?” 

Jaime’s implication made sense. Not all enemies were knights, and not all knights fought with honor. It was just a shame that he had to fight dirty. _It’s probably the only way he can beat me._ She wished she could’ve fought him in his prime, before he was captured at the Whispering Wood. That would’ve been a fight for the gods. _Fine, two can play this game._ She steeled herself for what her new plan would entail.

Finally, she pressed the attack. As expected, he locked their weapons together again to get in close. With her newly freed shield arm she grabbed him by the waist and pulled it towards hers.

There was surprise in his face and lust in his eyes. When she was sure his guard was down she sent a mailed gauntlet firmly beneath the arm, at the pit where there was almost no armor. The punch wasn’t too hard, just forceful enough to make him lose his sword and send him flying humbly into the rocks.

He picked himself up. “Seduction… Oh, Don’t fight like such a woman!”

Jaime’s barb stung a little. She had thought it fun, if not more than a bit thrilling. But his snarky retort sapped the excitement from her advance. She raised Oathkeeper. “Sharp tongue, but my sword is sharper.”

“Spend a lot of time thinking about my tongue?” Jaime mused, and grinned that damn grin at her.

For a brief moment she forgot herself and thought of his tongue in the manner he suggested. That was a mistake. Jaime darted to the side and kicked up his sword, catching it mid-air like the skilled knight she knew him to be. He struck.

She parried at the last moment and pressed a little, only to test him. She didn’t want to shame him too badly, and she didn’t want it to be over just yet. Jaime took a step back and tilted down the tip of his sword to give them a few restful breaths. He brought his golden hand over his crotch. A gesture of discomfort, and obviously one of the times he cursed the loss of his hand. _Perhaps his armor is pinching him… no. Oh gods, is he aroused?_ It took all of her self-control to stifle a chuckle. The more Jaime fidgeted with the fauld armor around his pelvis the more she was convinced of his rigidity.

The thought of it made Brienne embarrassed and a bit stirred up herself. It was a compliment to know her body, ungainly as it was, could elicit such a response. And from a man as handsome as the Young Lion too. His bawdy taunts weren’t hollow – he might actually want her. She remembered seeing his manhood stir in the bath at Harrenhal. Sure, she’d seen it soft many times while dressing and cleaning him during their journey, but that time at Harrenhal when he’d seen a full view of her nakedness she was sure he had grown. Her armor grew warmer to remember it, and her body broke into a sweat. The heat on her cheeks returned, threatening to give away her thoughts.

He raised his sword and came at her again, but her mind was distracted. Oathkeeper’s late parry spelt disaster for her normally impenetrable defenses. It was so strange fighting a left-handed swordsman. Jaime swung hard into her right pauldron, promising an impressive bruise later. Brienne flowed with the direction of the blow, throwing the weight of her upper body to the left, which allowed the balance for her right knee to come up and connect with Jaime’s ribs.

Jaime’s breastplate looked pretty dented and cracked in several spots. It was almost over.

Eventually, she wound up holding his wrists firmly above his head, pinning him to the rocky wall. The wide distance of his outstretched arms caused her to be drawn in close to him. They were panting hard and she could feel his hot breath. Their foreheads touched together, creating a moment of intimacy which they both yearned for. Then Jaime ruined it by speaking.

"You have a tight grip", he observed. "Tight lips as well. I think you must be tight all over.”

That was too far. Brienne turned her head away. “You should’ve worn a helm.” 

She head-butted him into the rocks, then paced back to retrieve Oathkeeper. She walked slow enough to allow Jaime time to recover.

After a few groans and curses Jaime was on his feet. Brienne tossed his sword to him, which he almost caught. She could see the frustration in his face. _That’s why he wanted to fight here, away from any prying eyes. He doesn’t want anyone else to see how terrible he is at swordplay since he lost his hand._

Jaime could read the sympathy in her eyes. “I know you won’t tell anyone.”

“Of course not, Jaime.” How could he always seem to tell what she was thinking? Was she that transparent?

“Besides, if you win they’ll mock you for beating a cripple.”

Brienne smiled. “And they’d mock you for losing to a woman.”

They leapt at each other simultaneously. Despite tiring from the long fight, their thrusts quickened. They bashed each other relentlessly until several bits of armor lay strewn about the ground. Their strength matched, and what Jaime lacked in skill with his left he made up for with experience and speed.

In a final bit of quickness he threw a leg behind Brienne then a firm push against her center of gravity and she was suddenly sprawled on her back with Jaime sitting on her stomach. One of her arms was trapped beneath his knee and the other hand was held with both his arms. 

Brienne struggled against him with her arms, with her whole body. Nothing worked.

Jaime brought his face in close to hers again. “Yield.”

“No.” She grunted and tried bringing her legs up to kick him or grab his head but she didn’t have the flexibility for it, or the weight of her steel boots and greaves were too heavy, or she was just too tired, she couldn’t determine.

Jaime’s expression grew cool, but his emerald eyes burned with an intensity she rarely saw. “Don’t be afraid to yield for once in your life.”

“Never.” Brienne stopped struggling for a moment, but kept her whole body tense for when she could think of a way to escape his hold.

Jaime leaned into her ear. When he spoke she felt his lips brush up against her flesh. “Please, yield. If only to me. I’ll treat you well, my lady, I promise.”

When he brushed her ear it sent a shiver down her spine and all the way through her fingers and toes, a not unpleasant chill that caused her arms and neck to prickle with gooseflesh despite the sweaty hot armor. Something in his voice, something in his face, something in his eyes convinced her. Her muscles slowly relaxed. She closed her eyes to take several deep breaths. She felt the warmth of his body against hers, the firm grip of his hand at her wrist, his leg on her other hand.

When she opened her eyes again she said, “I yield to you, Ser Jaime.”

She looked up at him and watched his eyes go wide and watery. Above him the sky had darkened and the sun had set. Despite the dim light, she saw a look in his face she’d never seen before. The look almost broke her heart. She was sure with every part of herself that he was absolutely in love with her. _Or is that just wishful thinking?_

She was uncertain of what came next. She felt she might cry, buck him off, or scream, but she had yielded so it was up to him. She lay motionless as he loosened his hold on her. His good hand deftly slackened a leather strap on her lobstered gauntlet and pulled it off. He slid his hand into hers and their fingers entwined. The soft parts of her fingers tingled when he squeezed.

Jaime’s lips parted and drew in so close to hers. _This is it, he’s going to kiss me._ This wouldn’t be her first kiss, of course, but it might be the first that wasn’t followed by betrayal and pain.

Memories cascaded through her head, unbidden. Monsters like Ronnet Connington and his rose when she had only been a shy and vulnerable young girl, Humfrey Wagstaff, and all the lying knights in Renly’s camp and their vile betting pool on her maidenhead.

 _An now Jaime’s going to do it too._ She felt the sting in her eyes and the watery build up threatening to blur her vision. _No, Jaime’s different. I know who he is, who he wants to be. I know he wants me, I’m just not sure why._

Their bottom lips touched, and Jaime jerked backwards. He was on his feet with that infuriating grin from ear to ear.

For a heartbeat Brienne was in shock, frozen by a torrent of emotions she had no defenses against. She was a bit relieved he hadn't kissed her but also hating herself for being frozen, she hated him for being so mean, hated that this had gone on so long. Her blood was on fire from anger, from the fight, from her pent up arousal for which she had no means of release.

He opened his mouth and she just knew something mocking was going to come out of it.

 _No, no more japes._ Like a wild animal she was off the ground and slapped a large hand around the smiling knight’s stupid skinny throat. She slammed him painfully against a large tree, and relished how his eyes widened when she lifted him off his feet with one hand until he was a few inches above her.

A second passed as he gasped in a terrified manner. It was satisfying.

“Go ahead, say something clever.” Brienne growled at him.

He made only small choking sounds.

Then she stood on her tip toes and kissed him, hard. She didn’t care if it was perfect or awful, if their teeth knocked, where her tongue was, if he minded her missing teeth, or if he thought it too manly of her. She wanted the kiss now, and on her terms. And if she didn’t like it, she would drop him into a collapsed heap of dented armor and golden hair. She knew he wanted it too, he was just too mean to give it, or too scared of what it meant for them, it didn’t matter why because now she had the kiss.

Her wide mouth enveloped his, she moved her swollen lips lovingly across his own. Her head angled to find the best way to get at more of him. She lowered him back to his feet and released her chokehold, but her other hand grabbed his hair to keep him locked in their kiss. He didn’t resist, just breathed loudly and licked her tongue affectionately. He explored her lips back with his own. It was sloppy, it was sweaty and dirty, and the bulky armor made for awkward caressing, but for the first time they could express the passion they had held inside for so long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Brienne's subconscious let him win.
> 
> Allusion:  
> \- Brienne refers to Jaime as a smiling knight when he pissed her off. In Jaime's thoughts (in the books) he says he became the Smiling Knight he was trying to defeat, instead of his mentor Arthur Dayne. He's being a bit down on himself here, but the analogy is apt. Brienne didn't make the parallel purposefully (she's not a telepath), but Jaime's move to jump up and jape at her was admittedly a terrible idea. Jerk.
> 
> More chapters coming soon, depending on reception. Further chapters will get dirtier.


	2. Jaime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> J&B find an inn to get more comfortable with each other. Obnoxious references ensue and Brienne gets a lesson in male reproductive biology. Then things heat up even more.

Things had been ill at ease between Jaime and Brienne since their enthusiastic first kiss. Most of it was the wench’s doing, all withdrawn mutterings and shy glances. She didn’t seem regretful, just that her normal social ineptness had been increased tenfold. He figured she just needed some time to figure out what their friendship meant after the kiss. He could tell she was unsure, but he wasn’t. _After the goat took my hand I am less than what I was. Whatever is left is hers now. Wherever we go, I am content to simply be with her._

They had shared a few embraces since the kiss, and more gentler than the first, but the apprehensive horse ride the next day had been more agonizing than his bruises he earned from their fight. It was almost enough to make him wish for another bear pit to jump in.

They rode on quietly. He didn’t want nervous silence, he wanted to take her to bed and taste her plump lips while he ran his hand over ever freckle on her body. As guileful as he could be he didn’t think he could convince her to stop at an inn in the middle of the day. _Wine, that might clear up the lump in her throat. We should reach a town along the Roseroad just before dark. That’ll be a fine place for it._

“I have a thirst,” Jaime cleared his throat. “and a soft bed would do us both some good. There is an Inn up ahead at Tumbleton. I know it to be jovial place even in trying times such as these.”

The big woman gave a smile and a nod but no other sign of her thoughts.

They must have looked a sight arriving in the town of Tumbleton: a one-handed knight and a large lady in men’s clothes, both in good spirits in spite of being blood-spattered and bruised. Jaime sought a blacksmith in the large market area to mend their armor, though his required most of the repairs. The Valyrian steel had sliced through several pieces, though Brienne admirably managed to stop short. But he had still bled from several slashes. He paid a traveling hedge-maester to clean and bind the wounds and tried to keep Brienne from seeing them. Once healed he would view the scars as happy reminders of his first kiss with the maiden.

Brienne left to settle a room at the Inn while Jaime bartered. The armorer said the breastplate was unsalvageable, but took it for scrap and sold him a used green enameled replacement at a discounted price. 

When he found the inn to meet up with Brienne he was wearing the green breastplate to get her opinion of it. The inn, named the Bawdy Badger, was busy with laughter and clinking of mugs. He scanned the common room for the wench. A pale man with white hair slept under a table in a drunken slumber and snored through the din of the merriment around him. Serving girls with ale and wine darted between the tables. The innkeep, who held a glass of wine, turned to greet him with a giddy smile.

“Seven blessings to you, ser. I hope you haven’t come looking for a room, we’re full up,” She handed him a cup. “but plenty to drink.” 

Jaime accepted the cup and tasted the sweet red. “Thank you. I’m looking for a big dour woman, dresses like a man.”

“Over in the corner.” She pointed. “She your wife?”

 _Good suggestion. Oh, this will be fun._ “Yes.”

“Ah,” She gave him a knowing look. “Lucky for you she was the one who took our last room.”

Jaime thanked her and turned towards the corner she pointed out. The innkeep said as he walked away, “My name is Lot. If you need anything just let me know!” 

Brienne was sitting alone, hunched over a kidney pie. _A wench after my own heart._ Jaime nearly ran over to her table in excitement. Brienne’s face was neutral to his arrival. “They only had one room available,” She said. “so we’ll be sharing again.”

“How improper! Trying to trying to trick me abed, my lady?” Jaime beamed as he savored a stolen taste of her pie. 

“No, but mayhaps you’ll find the stables more to your liking.” Her fork blocked his next attempt at her dessert. Her eyes wandered around his chest. “Your new breastplate, it suites you better than the Lannister red, if I may say so. It matches…” Brienne trailed off.

“Matches what?” Jaime asked. 

Brienne looked girlish, her eyes darted around nervously and her cheeks blushed. “Nothing. Forget it.”

“It seems your face has stolen my Lannister red.” _Time for a drink._ Jaime sat down across from Brienne and waived over a serving girl. 

The woman was obviously inebriated by the way she navigated her way over to the table. “M’lord.” The serving girl greeted him. “I’m Chickren, but me friends call me Chickey. Because…” She broke off with a guffaw. “What can I bring you and your wife?” 

Brienne’s mouth dropped open and her brow raised high. She shook her head at Chickey and then starred daggers at Jaime. His slanted mouth twisted into a knowing sneer. 

“Arbor Gold for my wife, if you would.” Emphasis on the word ‘wife’ brought him a boot to his shin under the table. The serving girl left to bring them their wine.

Brienne finished her plate in silence until Chickey brought their wine. When their glasses were emptied Jaime asked, “Will you talk to me, Brienne?”

“About what?” She feigned innocently.

Jaime’s eyes narrowed on her. _She’s not going to open up so easily, the stubborn wench._ She was always the same, immutable. Normally such a trait would bore him, but with Brienne it was a comfort, even surprising at times. No matter what else happened in the world she would always be the same: honorable, noble, willful. It warmed something inside him to be able to rely on that.

“About us.” Jaime held her gaze. “If I have to defeat you for every kiss I don’t think I’ll survive very long.” He rubbed the bruise at his forehead that had grown an angry dark color.

“I…” She stammered, flustered.

He finished for her. “… am trustworthy, brave, doughty, and a truer knight than any living. I don’t intend to change any of that.” She looked at him, wordless.

“As for me, I am arrogant, maimed, and old, but... I am more handsome than most, surely that counts for something. I can even be kind. Kindness is not a habit with us Lannisters, I fear, but I know I have some somewhere. You’ve become closer to me than any family. We could be... we could be good to each other.”

“Oh, Jaime….” She sighed, unsure of what to say but obviously touched by his unusual sincerity. “Perhaps you could order another round.”

He grinned and waived for Chickey again. 

While they waited for her to cross the room Brienne turned to him. “You _are_ good to me. But your japes have not done much to help me speak openly …ser.”

“I thought you were accustomed to teasing, being as you’ve had a lifetime of it.”

“Not from you.”

He swallowed hard. His words to her mattered more than anyone else’s. He had no quip. For the moment he couldn't think of anyone else that had that effect on him. Even if he could think of one he hoped he wouldn’t say it.

Chickey saved him. This time Chickey was followed by Lot, another glass of wine in her hand, and a third woman. Lot introduced her, “This is Eon, she wanted to meet the lady-knight.” Eon was more deep in her cups than the others, though Chickey was a close second. Admirably, none of them slurred their words.

“I’m not a knight.” Brienne corrected.

“Well you look like you could be one.” Eon told her. “Or should be one.” Eon looked pointedly at Jaime.

Jaime thought of Brienne’s oath to Catelyn Stark. _Perhaps if she rescues the Stark girls I’ll knight her for it. Propriety be damned._

A woman at the table next to them belched. Lot turned to her and chided affably, “Lady Clotho, your manners.” The innkeep turned back to Jaime. “OK. Moving on…”

Jaime and Brienne passed quizzical looks to each other. Brienne looked as if she were politely stifling a laugh. Lot continued, “There's a problem with your room, ser. You see, there’s no bed, just a table …but I'm sure you two will make do."

Eon punctuated Lot’s implication with a muffled giggle. Chickey told Lot, “Oh stop teasing the poor dears.” 

Lot carried on, undismayed, “Did you two have a scuffle? You look like you’ve seen a battle.”

Brienne said amusedly, “No, we had a modest duel.”

“I bet you really gave her your sword." Chickey nudged Jaime with her elbow and gave a ludicrous wink. The ladies all burst into laughter. Brienne looked down and blushed with a smile.

“No, the Maid of Tarth has yet to be conquered.” Jaime alluded knowingly. He decided to keep secret her yield to him, unless she allowed it to be known.

“Tarth?” Lot asked excitedly. “And you’re Jaime Lannister, clearly. The Lannister house words are ‘Hear Me Roar’, and the Tarth words are…” She paused, in thought. “Something Something Honor.”

Chickey padded a hand on the innkeep’s head. “Oh, you sweet summer child.”

 _I think I’ve had enough of these three._ Jaime turned to Chickey. “Could you bring another round, please?” She nodded, hooked Eon’s arm, and plodded off.

Brienne stood. “Excuse me, I’ve got to make water.” It seemed she had enough of the giggling ladies too. 

Lot remained standing at the head of their table. She bent over a bit to lower her head down to Jaime’s. “I was only japing about the table. Your room has a large bed, big enough for both of your comparable sizes.” She raised an eyebrow. “Big enough for three, even.” She gave an adorable little chuckle.

 _The audacity of this woman!_ Jaime almost cackled in her face. “I’ll discuss it with my wife, thank you for the offer.” He wouldn’t, he’d had his fill of her beating him ruthlessly. But he did let his imagination run with the suggestion.

Brienne returned, and Jaime did cackle. The wench stiffened a bit, shoulders pushed back in a similar stance to when she faced lords and ladies of higher station. She had walked in on Jaime laughing with another woman. _She’s jealous. This is the single most entertaining night I can remember. Well, better let her scold the woman for it._ Jaime stood as well. “My turn. This wine goes straight through you.” He left the wench and the Innkeep together, but when a crowd of drunkards passed by he surreptitiously ducked around them, then behind a pillar to eavesdrop on the table.

Brienne sat down. "Strange names in this place, if you’ll excuse me for saying so."

Lot agreed, “We all think it’s fun, don’t you? We strive to make this a warm and welcoming environment.” 

“I see that.” Brienne acknowledged. The innkeep gave her an expectant look, almost worried. Brienne quickly affirmed, “Oh! I’m enjoying myself, yes. Thank you. You’ve all been very …jovial.” An awkward silence passed between them. “…The Bawdy Badger, where did the name come from?”

“It’s just an memorable name, no real story behind it. Just nipples on a breastplate really. Have you tried the blackberry wine? I’ll bring you a cup.” Before Brienne could tell her no the innkeep was off again. 

_Shouldn’t leave her alone too long, the hens may return._ Jaime moved out from his hiding place and returned to his seat across from Brienne. _I think an innocent topic is in order, give the wench a moment to collect herself before she dies from too much fun._ “The tree-crested shield you carry, where did you get it?”

“It’s the same one you gave me at the capital, I just had it painted over. The Lothston bat felt an ill omen.”

“Ah. Why the arms of Ser Duncan?”

“Duncan the Tall? I didn’t know it was his.” She smiled widely. “I just had it painted from a shield I found in Evenfall.”

“What would Ser Duncan’s shield be doing in Tarth?”

“I have no idea.” 

She thought for a moment. “Jaime… how tall was Ser Duncan?” She asked ponderously.

Chickey reappeared before he could answer and refilled their cups. “Can I get m’lord and m’lady something to eat?”

“My lord,” She said, somewhat mockingly, to Jaime. “How many chickens do you think we can eat between the two of us?”

“I don’t know, but I’m staying at this inn till I’ve had my fill of warm pink meat.” By the look of Brienne’s lack of reaction he assumed she didn’t catch his innuendo, which was probably for the best since he should be holding back on his teasing.

“I’ll return with two chickens, if it pleases.” The girl left.

Brienne drained half the glass, then turned to Jaime. Her face thoughtful and pensive. “You asked to speak of us.” Another thoughtful pause. “…When I was a girl I was betrothed thrice. They each refused to take me after we met. Then in Renly’s service several young knights befriended me. It surprised me, until I learned they were only acting nice because of a wager on my… maidenhead.” Her brow furrowed in thought. Jaime kept himself from speaking to let her gather what she would say next.

Brienne brought her sapphire eyes up to meet him and continued, “So you could understand why I’m… on edge at the prospect of lo…” Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “…of affection.” She looked down at her empty cup.

Jaime had no idea what to say. He prayed for words of comfort to come to him, but he could only think of cutting remarks. Since words failed him, he simply stood up and walked around the table to sit next to Brienne. Close enough for their legs to touch. He draped one arm around her big shoulders and kissed her forehead. Brienne hesitantly brought an arm under his for a hug.

He winced, and she startled. “If you would reach for any other part of me, my ribs would thank you for it.”

Brienne’s voice was heavy with concern and regret. “Is that where I kicked you?” He nodded. She moved her hand back around his waist, but lower. She confessed into his shoulder, “You probably deserved it.”

He chuckled, and the cooked chickens arrived. “Do you know the story of Duncan’s sigil?” Jaime asked.

“No,” She said through a mouthful of meat. “would you tell me?”

“Not a few days after he was knighted, long before he became a Kingsguard, Duncan was camped outside his first tourney. Laying under an elm tree he watched a star fall from the sky. To him, the moment signified the modest pleasures of his life as a hedge knight. In the morning, needing a coat of arms for the tourney, he had his Dornish lover paint a shooting star above an elm tree over a sunset field.”

He looked over his chicken at Brienne, whose jaw lay slightly agape with bits of half-chewed fowl in view. His stare made her realize her manners and she snapped her mouth shut. She brought up a hand to cover her face.

“It’s alright. Before the shield was dry, Aerion Brightflame attacked Duncan’s lover, but he saved her, smashing out the prince’s teeth."

“Seven Hells.” She took another bite of chicken. “Was he the one who drank wildfire?”

“Yes,” He continued. “But that was later. Duncan defeated Aerion in a Trial by Seven, and defended the Dornish girl’s honor.” 

“That’s quite a …romantic tale, Jaime.” She admitted. His story told, Jaime turned to his bird, which had gone mostly ignored.

“Jaime…”

“Yes, Brienne?”

“I would kick a Targaryen Prince in the teeth for …if he were bothering you.” She looked at him seriously.

It was too much for him. He chortled, somewhat unintentionally. He might’ve expected a lady to ask him if he would’ve done so for her. _But Brienne is no proper lady. That's fine. Brienne is enough for me._ “I’ll have to find a Targaryen prince.”

His thoughts wandered on stars and he began thinking aloud. “You know of Arthur Dayne’s sword?”

“Yes. Dawn, right? I was told it was sharp as Valyrian steel, and it was made from the heart of a fallen star.”

“Right. I was thinking… the Sword of Morning goes back ages, so it was a different fallen star. But what if someone forged a sword from the star that fell that night Duncan found his sigil? In a similar way to Dawn.” 

Brienne elaborated on his thought excitedly. “…And a descendent of Ser Duncan would go on a quest to find it.”

“It would make for a good song.” He approved. It was idle chatter, meaningless to anyone else but everything to him, her finally opening up after all the awkwardness.

When nothing but bones were left in their plates, Brienne turned to Jaime. “I think we’ve had enough. Would you like to see me to my room?” They stood and walked up the stairs together, to much hooting and laughter from Lot and her ladies. 

By the time they reached their room Brienne was beet-red again. In their room Jaime took out something from his bag. “Brienne, I have a gift for you.” She looked suspicious, but she picked up the small box all the same. “I had it made for you back in King’s Landing.”

She opened the lid which caused ‘The Bear and the Maiden Fair’ to start playing from the music box. It was a child’s toy, but he thought the customized changes to it were funny: the inside of the lid was painted with Harrenhal as its backdrop, and instead of a spinning dancer figurine it was a bear in patchwork blue armor. Carried over the bear’s shoulder was a thin blonde maid in a red dress and white cloak.

Brienne raised an eyebrow, looking as if was going to give her the pox. _She doesn’t get it._

“Your present is welcome,” She was trying her best to be polite. “but I don’t think I understand.”

He had feared it would go this way. This is why he didn’t give it to her with Oathkeeper. He tried to make sense of it to her. “You’re the bear, wench. I might’ve pulled you from the pit, but you were the one who saved me when I lost my sword hand.”

“Well that’s nice, but …I’m a bear to you? A beast?” She was getting angry now. This was a bad idea. 

_It was a reminder of Roose Bolton and the Bloody Mummers. Why should she want to remember that?_ She didn’t say as much, she didn’t have to. Jaime waved a hand dismissively. “It’s just a silly little thing, so if you don’t understand completely it doesn’t matter.”

“Wait…” She looked back at the box, inspecting it carefully.

The tune of the music was at the part where the lyrics would sing, _‘…he licked the honey from her hair.’_

“You’re the maiden?” Brienne laughed a laugh that made him wish she would do it more often.

Jaime thanked the wine, attributing her change of mood to the drink. “Well, yes.” He hadn’t been embarrassed at that fact when he had the box made. She had seen him at his most vulnerable a dozen times over. He had felt a maid the way she took care of him. This was just a token he thought would make her laugh, and mayhaps a reminder of him should they part ways some day. 

_‘Then she sighed and squealed and kicked the air!’_

She inspected it again. But the damage had been done. _She’s laughing at me._ “Well throw it in the bin, then. Smash it to pieces! I care not.” Jaime turned away from her, fuming.

“Jaime,” Brienne covered the distance between them in two long strides. “the armor and sword were enough.” She grabbed his arm.

“Enough for what?”

“This.” Brienne pulled him close and kissed him gently until the song ended, which was far too soon. She broke away to saunter over to the bed. The _one_ bed.

He yawned and stretched. “Well I’m ready for sleep.” Brienne put down the music box. Jaime moved to a part of the room where he was sure Brienne had clear view of him and he stripped off his shirt, though his one hand made it a bit graceless. The Maester had done fine work cleaning and binding his wounds from the fight, but she could now see the harm their Valyrian steel had done him. There was a large bruise forming on his back where she slammed him against the tree.

“You’re hurt! Is that from our fight?” Brienne rushed over to inspect the injuries.

He only half regretted his decision to disrobe. He barely felt the injuries, her gentle touch was the keener sensation. Her large hand cupped his chin to look at the choke-bruises and his stomach did a backflip. Her face was close. _How can her sword hand be so devastating yet so sweetly gentle?_

“I’m sorry…” One of her fingers grazed pleasantly over his sore neck.

“Don’t be.” He grabbed her scrutinizing hand and pressed it firmly to his face. He tipped his head to align their lips together. “I’m sure I can find a way to repay…” She interrupted him.

“Shut up, Lannister.” She closed the distance. Her hands were soft in grip, but her mouth was firm in its insistence. He let go of her hand and grabbed her shoulders to pull in her body. He wanted to feel her against him, he wanted her to feel him.

She winced. He pulled back and before he could ask, she said, “My shoulder. Your sword found its mark as well.”

Slowly he reached toward her again. “Let me see it.” He lifted the bottom of her shirt.

“What do you think you are doing?!” She gasped.

“Oh, please. Nothing I haven’t seen before.” His voice was low and friendly. _If she didn’t want me to do this she could easily stop me._ He lifted her arms up unhurriedly, mindful of the offending shoulder. When the neckline of her shirt passed over her mouth the round bottom lip jiggled slightly, as did her small breasts had when freed. Before he could admire them she turned her back to him, pointing the injured arm slightly towards him. Where his sword had dented her pauldron a dark bruise had formed, profound and raw. A ridge of the steel had left an impression in the poor skin.

“It must’ve been…” She stopped mid-sentence when his hand touched her shoulder. He tried to be soft. He wanted to show her that he could be gentle too, even if his words were not. He placed his hand as lightly as he could at the large muscle between the neck and shoulder. Not for the first time he wished he had two hands to touch her. He smiled at the abrupt breath she took in. He passed over a patch of a hundred freckles before he traced the blade of the shoulder. 

He knew they weren’t really doing anything to properly tend their wounds. It was just a poorly veiled excuse to touch each other skin-to-skin. Brienne likely knew it too, and he loved that she was still going along. He brought his lips close to her nape, enough so he knew she could feel his breath. Gooseflesh prickled her when his lips flicked over the small fine hairs at the back of her neck.

She leaned into him. The rush from her naked back touching his bare chest made him feel like a boy, discovering the wonders of a naked woman’s body for the first time. In a way he was. His sister had been with him since birth. They were almost the same person. There was no moment of exploration because he was familiar with her gradual changes on a nearly daily basis. But now, here was a new and fascinating figure full of mysteries to explore. Differences, both blatant and subtle, were all savored. 

His arms crept beneath hers, along her ribcage, pointedly going towards her front. Brienne made a surprised gulping noise and covered her breasts with her hands. So he dropped his good hand to her stomach. He traced the arch of her abs lightly enough to tickle. She hummed so quietly it was almost inaudible, and he kept tracing, kept tickling. _She’s not very ticklish, at least not here… _He tried on her sides, then back to the front, and then suggestively along the top of her pants line.__

Her breathing relaxed a bit more and she placed her hand over his, the other reaching up to the back of his head. At the same time she looked back to kiss him, her back arched. He brought his hands up to cup her breasts. Her nipples were hard, despite the warm temperature of the room. He was half-hard in his loins and wondered if she could feel it against her, even through their pants.

After only a few too-short moments she stepped out of his embrace and covered herself. She was blushing again and couldn’t raise her eyes from the floor. She walked over to the bed where her nightclothes had been laid out.

“Turn around.” She commanded sternly. He gave her a lion’s smile, knowing it would deepen the shade on her cheeks. Brienne was too stubborn to allow him to watch her change, so he obeyed. But the sounds of her undressing were just as exciting as if he’d watched. By the time she let him look back his dick had finished hardening to full readiness and it was forced down one side of his pants.

Brienne climbed into bed. Jaime had been sleeping on a floor pallet next to her bed during nights at inns. But tonight would be different. He followed her in, pushing her to the other side of the bed.

"Find another bed!" She protested and clutched a blanket protectively.

"This one suits me fine." He said nonchalantly.

Somehow she easily relented from just that. _Mayhaps because we grew comfortable sleeping together when we were tied by the Bloody Mummers._

Brienne sighed with only a tinge of exasperation, “I suppose winter is upon us. Nights will be getting colder. I trust you won’t do anything untoward, ser.” 

He said nothing, promised nothing. Instead he stretched out his legs to the edge of the bed. He was still wearing the metal hand, and Brienne moved to help him remove it wordlessly. She was always so helpful, he loved it. The hand fell to the floor with a thud and her eyes fell to the bulge in his trousers. Too late she tried to look away and pretend as if she hadn’t seen it.

“Do you need to go… take care of that?” She asked the ceiling.

“No,” Jaime smirked. “It’ll go away in a bit if I ignore it long enough.”

“Really? I was told it hurt a man to let such a thing go without… release.” Brienne fidgeted as she pulled the furs up to her shoulders.

“Told by a man trying to trick you into releasing it for him, most like.” Jaime mused. “It happens to every man throughout the day …and night, while alone. If he went around releasing his seed all the time nothing would ever get done.”

After a moment she echoed, “At night, my lord?”

Jaime lay on his back on top of the covers, with his shirt off, staring at the quizzical woman. “Hmmm, I suppose maesters and septas don’t teach young ladies such things. Yes, at night. The body has its own way of liberation. If a man has gone without release for quite a while then the dreams come to him and brings it about for him.” He pulled at his breeches where the troublesome erection strained against his pant leg. He resisted the urge to fondle himself in front of her. He said quietly to himself, “And it’s been some time since I’ve had release.”

Brienne’s eyes widened. “Have you had one of the dreams?”

“Yes.” Jaime tried to act as indifferent as possible, but in his head he danced several steps ahead in the conversation. He closed his eyes as if more interested in sleep.

After a silence, the wench took the bait. “When?”

“I’d never had one until after I left” he paused and looked away from Brienne. “…King’s Landing.” By the way Brienne lowered her gaze he knew that she inferred the rest.

She continued her questioning, “When you were held by Lady Catelyn, or on …on the road,” Brienne stammered awkwardly “with me?”

“On the road.” Jaime said simply, and his smile grew larger. _I don’t have to quip in order to tease her._ He knew where this was going. He was giving short answers because he wanted to hear her speak, to ask the dirty questions to him aloud.

“What did you dream of?” Her voice was a whisper, as if afraid someone else might hear her.

He turned onto his side, made sure he wound up a bit closer to her face and those plump lips. “I’ve already given you the answer to that question.”

“When?”

“After the bear pit.”

She looked confused for a heartbeat, then surprised. “Me?!” She exclaimed a bit loudly. He gave her a moment to let it sink in. True, the dream hadn’t been wet the first time, but he had several similar wet dreams later on featuring the wench.

After she steadied herself her voice sank again. “You never told me what happened in the dream.” She slipped an arm under the blankets.

Inside himself he leapt for joy that he had led her to the subject of the dream, and he tried to keep his delight from showing on his face. “I was naked and alone in my darkness. It was awfully haunting until you appeared.” Brienne’s brow raised in concern. _There’s no point in hiding that from her, but I’ll leave out the part about my family._ He continued, “You were naked and bound. I released your chains and you asked for my sword, which I gave you without hesitation. Your blade burst into blue flames that pushed away the darkness. It cast you in dim azure light that made you look beautiful. It made you look a knight.”

The word ‘beautiful’ made Brienne shrink, but ‘knight’ had brought her right back. Beneath the covers she repositioned her legs. Her lips parted in a warm smile. She looked intently at him to continue.

“You were tall and strong yet still a woman, shapely and pleasing to the eye. You suggested I climb atop you so we could escape together.”

“Go on.” She said with a sigh and closed her eyes. A slow movement beneath the covers caused the blankets to dance lightly around her waist.

“I became aroused and you touched me. First my shoulder, then down to my arm. You were so warm and comforting.”

Brienne hesitantly brought up her hand that was above the covers. She bit her lip and tentatively placed the hand on Jaime’s bare bicep. Her touch was so soft it tickled. _She’s reenacting my dream? Perhaps I should embellish it a bit. No, I can’t lie to her, I won’t trick her._

“What happens next?” She asked.

“In the dream?”

“Yes.” She said breathily. The word was fire, heating his chest and his loins. He imagined her repeating it the same way over and over while he was inside her.

“The first time I had the dream it ended with you protecting me from ghosts of my past. Other times I had the dream…” He trailed off to build her anticipation. His abrupt pause left a silence in the room, except for a soft wet sound muffled from her side of the bed. The movement he had seen beneath the covers suddenly made sense to him. He had been so focused on recalling the dream that he hadn’t made note of her doings. His jaw dropped in bewilderment at the wanton act she was doing secretly to herself beneath those damned blankets. His already-hard cock protested vehemently now, aching to take part in her hidden pleasures in any way she would allow. He wished he was beneath the blankets so he could do the same to himself without embarrassing her. _Don’t let her know that you know. Quick, say something else to her._

“How long has it been for you?” He asked, leaving the dream unfinished.

“Hmm? Since I dreamed?”

“No, since you last …had release.”

“Jaime! I’m still a maid!”

“I know, that’s not what I meant.” He dropped to a whisper. “Surely you touch yourself. In bed alone, under the covers.” He savored the indecision in her face, her arousal and honesty fighting modesty. 

She bit her lip. “It’s been” She hesitated and looked down. “…some time.” 

He pushed her chin up to bring her gaze back to his. Her cobalt-blue eyes shown like sapphires. He couldn’t take it anymore. The thumping of his heart began to drown out the precious squishing sounds. The way she bit her lip while looking down at his mouth made his hand instinctively grab her face. Her blue eyes darted back up to meet his stare again, half closed in a way to show she might close them tight, if only he would make the right move. Slowly, he leaned in. And waited. And grinned.

In a sudden and almost violent jerk, like the one she had made after she had yielded, Brienne’s mouth came the rest of the distance and she shoved her head against his hard enough to press it to his own pillow. Her kiss was unskilled, but the passion behind it more than made up for it. It washed over him like it was bursting from a dam, built up for far too long. In his head he was shouting with joy and his hips began mindlessly moving against her covered thigh. 

Their breathing became heavy and broken between the deep kisses. When she brought her other hand up to cradle his face, the hand that had been satisfying herself during the recitation of his erotic dream, he grabbed it and pushed the lusty arm back down beneath the covers. She pulled her mouth back a bit, probably at the realization that he had known what she had been doing, but he wouldn’t let her embarrassment stop their fervor that they started. He pushed back against her delicious lips again, embracing her in hope she would succumb to the implication from guiding her hand back between her legs. _I want the wench to share her pleasure with me, free of what’s proper for a maid and a knight._

When their hands reached the thick blonde bush below her muscled stomach he tingled with the thrill that she was allowing it. She had rolled down her smallclothes to her thighs. Her fingers slipped down the rest of the way, and he kept his hand above hers. An uncharacteristic whimper escaped from her throat. He tried to memorize the movements she made, up and down, then circles around the place above. He planned to mirror them later, whenever the opportunity arose. He had only ever known Cersei, and he heard that each woman was different in the way she enjoyed her pleasure. He didn’t want to make any unpleasant moves on Brienne since she was so skittish with these sorts of things.

He brought his maimed arm behind her neck to hold her close enough for their chests to touch. He could feel the heat from the red blushed skin on her chest, despite her nightclothes. She moaned deeply into his mouth with wild lust. He continued to kiss her, locking their mouths together for fear that she would make it all stop if he broke away for but a single moment. Her moaning grew louder until he felt her break into a sweat. He moved his mouth to her neck and she suddenly grew silent. When he realized she was holding her breath it made him worry he had done something wrong, something that dreadfully ruined their private moment in bed, until her large muscles went taught. She was strong enough to break bones and he was glad one of her arms was occupied. She tilted her head back until her brow was buried in the pillow. She let out her breath with a startlingly and thunderous groan. He stopped his kissing so he could look upon her while she climaxed, and he greatly appreciated the sight. Her hips shook so violently his hand got wet even though it was only at the back of her wrist. When her groan settled into a low hum her legs began to quake.

Her body relaxed, her eyes opened to him again and she smiled with guilty delight. She breathed in deeply and admitted, “Gods! I’ve never had one so puissant before. That was intense.”

She had shed all her maiden bashfulness, if only for a moment, and it wonderful. He brought his hand back up to stroke the side of her freckled face. Her head sank into the pillow and her heavy breaths softened until she caught her wind. She snuggled up to his chest and he could feel her fall asleep. His mind went to the tightness in his pants, but he ignored it so that he could just simply hold the appealing creature in her slumber. He knew her awkwardness would most likely return in the morning, but he hoped their newfound intimacy would diminish it somewhat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Allusions & References:  
> \- 'When You Go’ by Jonathan Coulton  
> \- Ulf the Sot, tPatQ  
> \- Arbor Gold usually represents lies, in this case it's Jaime pretending that Brienne is his wife. If you're interested in more, I suggest you search westeros.org for "lies and arbor gold".  
> \- It's generally accepted that Brienne is a descendant of Duncan.  
> \- Jaime mirrors Tyrion's speech to Sansa, which I explain by pointing out they are brothers, shared the same environment growing up, and have similar wit. So it's believable they might say nearly identical things. Or I'm just lazy. ...It's an homage!  
> \- Brienne suggests they eat all the chickens, as does the Hound in GoT.  
> \- Guest starring the cast of the JB podcast, found at closethedoorandcomehere.tumblr.com
> 
> The only reason I had Lot and Brienne together was to challenge myself to the Bechdel test, but does that defeat the whole point of the test?
> 
> I know Tanselle (probably) wasn’t Dunk’s lover, but since it happened nearly 100 years ago it’s safe to assume the tale would get a little muddled. As tales so often do in this setting.
> 
> Chapter 3 coming soon! It gets dirtier.


	3. Brienne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which more almost-sex happens, almost.

Brienne’s first thought when she woke was of Jaime. She knew it was his naked chest she was laying on. The blue light glowing in the window promised an imminent sunrise. She wished she hadn’t fallen asleep so soon. She willed the sun to go back down. That yearning feeling inside returned, the one that felt like an itch. _I hope I didn’t drool on him while I was asleep. If I did please don’t notice, Jaime. Seven Hells, did I really do that in front of him last night?! He’ll never let me hear the end of it._

She lifted her heavy head away from the blond chest hair. The bulge in his pants had returned, as if what he told her last night had been more of a promise than an explanation. It made her so curious – she nearly wanted to reach out and touch it. She stared at the lacings of his pants, already half-undone. _But he’s asleep. I most certainly wouldn’t want him to touch me in my sleep. I bet he wouldn’t mind though. He’s probably only pretending to still be asleep and is waiting to mock me if I touch him._

She wanted to do something with the swelling in his pants, she just wasn’t sure what. She searched her memories of indecent things men had suggested to her over the years. One time she had accidentally spied a camp follower pleasing one of Renly’s knights using her mouth. _I’ve heard women complain of the taste, but I bet Jaime wouldn’t taste too bad. I could please him and I would remain a maid._ She wanted to show him how much she cared for him, wanted him to know the lengths she would go to make him happy, and she wanted to see if she was any good at it. _It’s probably not very difficult. Men ask for it all the time, doubtless it wouldn’t take much effort for me to bring Jaime to finish._

Yet still she hesitated. She imagined pulling down his breeches to free it. Would it be agreeable or unpleasant to kiss it all over, and begin licking from base to end? She wondered what it would feel like in her mouth with Jaime moaning her name, telling her – _begging her_ – not to stop. 

She remained still for several minutes, fighting with herself and listening to the comforting shallow breaths of the golden knight beneath her. She wanted to wake him up and give her maidenhood to him, but at the same time she wanted to run away so she wouldn’t have to face him after what she’d done last night. _It was so much simpler before all the kissing. The hot, wonderful, exhilarating kissing._ She could feel herself growing wet again despite the puffiness in her face and the blurry eyes from recently waking. _How have I turned into such a lustful thing so swiftly?_ She felt it should stop, but it felt so thrilling that she knew there was no way she could ever stop it.

She moved her hand to his chest and explored the sculpted muscles, running her fingers through the hair. There was so much less pressure with him asleep and not aware of her movements. She squeezed her body closer to his and moved her hand down to his abs. She avoided the few bumps and bruises from their fight but palmed the intriguing bits. He was so warm, always so warm. 

Her mind returned to her mortifying selfishness of last night. _It was so unfair of him to let that happen._ Then she had an idea, something that would even the score and feed her hunger stirring inside. She cautiously placed a hand around Jaime’s good hand, slowly as to not wake him. When she was sure he had grown used to the feel of her hand she gradually pushed downwards, down until it rested on manhood. She waited, unsure. 

After a few frightful heartbeats Jaime breathed in and he grabbed himself. She hoped he didn’t wake to see the huge smile on her face. She could feel the too-familiar flames on her cheeks and she knew her face was red again. _Stupid blushing maid._ Her chest tightened and she hid her face in the pillow, letting go of Jaime’s wayward hand. 

Jaime let out a small soft yawn, or moan perhaps. Her retreat had woken him. The back of her neck felt warm, at he was touching her at the soft little tufts of hair on the nape. _With the hand that had just stroked his cock. I’m asleep Jaime. Don’t make fun of me just yet, please. I swear I will clout you in the ear. Gods, how does he know the back of my neck is sensitive?_

As far as she could tell Jaime believed that she was asleep, until his damnable touches sent a cruel shiver down her spine. His hand went away. Her shoulders shook and gave her away, so she turned to face him, beet-red. _At least he doesn’t know my smallclothes are thoroughly soaked._ Surprisingly he wasn’t wearing his normal smirk across his face but a rare look of soft euphoria, and his face was coming closer. He kissed her. _The first thing he desires to do when he wakes is only to kiss me._ Despite the lightning shooting through her body she closed her eyes and her shoulders slumped. Jaime must have some magic to cause her to give in so easily.

After a few slow light kisses he drew back. “Good morning, Brienne.” Her name on his lips was like sparks in the night. She opened her eyes to look in his emeralds and kissed him again. Out of the corner of her vision she could see the muscles in his arm contracting. _He’s touching himself again while we kiss._ She wasn’t sure how she felt about it. It seemed selfish, she wanted him to be touching her, but she wanted to see him in throws of ecstasy. And it was all still a little gross and strange to her. And improper.

“Good morning, Goldenhand.” She said. Kissing seemed to be the only thing to make her mind stop racing. _His mouth is useful for something after all._

“I believe you were the one with the golden hand last night.” Despite herself, Brienne laughed at his joke. It wasn’t particularly funny but for some reason she laughed all the same. It felt good to laugh with him for once instead of being mocked or scorned. _It makes me hope that this might not end in heartache._ Perhaps she was growing used to his humor.

He moved his hand to touch her. It was at her hip. The furs had twisted in the night and left her uncovered above the waist. Their lips touched again. His hand was fire on her skin, it was beneath her shirt and moving up...

She must have fidgeted too anxiously, because he stopped and pulled away. _No, go back. I’m sorry, don’t stop touching me. The air is so cold without you._

He opened his mouth to say something but she darted her tongue into it and she shoved his hand onto her breast, causing one of the buttons to pop off of her nightclothes. The button didn’t matter, only the feel of his hot, hot hand on her hard nipples, so sensitive to his touch. He liked to fondle her breasts; she could feel the lust it built inside him. It felt like every part of him was pressed against her.

He stopped the kiss to pull away the blankets from her, then leaned in and kissed her with his beautiful lion’s face. It made her want to melt. He pulled at her smallclothes. _I don’t know if I’m ready for this._

Jaime again somehow felt her hesitation and stopped the advance. _Always such a gentleman. Except for when he’s talking._ She wasn’t sure how he kept reading her so easily. She didn’t really want him to stop but she just didn’t know how to handle whatever would come next. 

She thought of facing another day’s ride with nothing but Jaime and thoughts of him naked. Even before their first kiss she’d been attracted to him. She was loath to admit it in the beginning, but his smug leer and filthy flirtations would keep her hot and wet for days.

"My lady?" Jaime's words shook her out of her thoughts.

“Perhaps… breakfast first?” She didn’t know what she was saying until it was already said. _No Jaime, don’t listen. Touch me. Do me. Do me here, now. Please! FUCK ME!_

“As my lady commands.” He said slyly, and slipped off the bed. He pulled her up with him. Their bare legs touched and it just made her crazier. _Get a hold yourself, Brienne of Tarth._ She tried to get dressed and contemplated throwing Jaime back on the bed until the shiny hilt of Oathkeeper caught her eye. Suddenly the heat began to dissipate from her body. The sword's implications of the real world and all its horribleness sobered her mind. _Right, food now. Just prey they’re not serving sausage._

The morning meal was much more appeasing than the night before. She felt more giddy than apprehensive. She almost couldn’t wait for the next time they were alone. Then the Innkeep and her barmaid Chicky came to their table.

"Ser, m'lady." Lot addressed them with a smile. "There's a problem in our wine cellar. I'd hoped you would be willing to help."

Jaime raised an eyebrow. "What's the problem?"

"It'd be best if we just show you." Chickey giggled.

Brienne and Jaime stood and placed hands on hilts. Jaime raised a second eyebrow to Brienne, which only left her more puzzled.

Clotho was sitting at the same table she had last night. She shouted as they walked towards the cellar door, "and bring more wine!"

Lot responded without turning to the woman. "If I left any."

The banded wooden door creaked loudly when Jaime opened it. He waived Brienne through. An orange light flickered off the stairs leading down. _Is the wince cellar on fire?_ She looked behind her just in time to see Chickey pushing Jaime in and closing the door behind him. A loud clink told her they'd been locked in.

Jaime seemed oddly calm. "Well, only one way to go."

"Down?"

Jaime chuckled, then turned down the stairs. When they reached the earthen floor the room opened up to walls of shelves and large casks. She saw what the warm light had been. _Candles? What in the world is going on here?_

In the middle of the room sat a large feather bed, recently set up. The sheets were immaculately clean. Fresh plucked wild flowers were littered in a circle around it.

Brienne was wordless, completely shocked. Jaime opened a bottle of wine from a shelf and moved to the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Brienne. My sweet, naive Brienne. Blowjobs aren’t easy, silly.


	4. Jaime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last time on The Prurient ManBearMaid, Jaime and Brienne were locked in a wine cellar by sly tavern wenches. Let’s get it on.

_Finally, a feather bed. The flower pedals and candles are a bit much. We’re not in a bloody romance song. Well, if it helps relax the wench then I don’t mind. The bed is all we'll need._ He reclined on it as she stood in stunned silence. 

“Remove your boots and come here.” He told her.

She did as he bid her.

He lifted his arm for her to draw herself inside his embrace. He kissed her softly at first, then with more passion as their blood heated. His hand gingerly found its way under her shirt he could’ve sworn she cooed. She fumbled at his tunic, her hands unsteady. With a frustrated grunt she ripped it the rest of the way and his chest was bare. He laughed, she gasped.

“Oh! I’m sorry,” She brought a hand to her face “I didn’t mean to!”

“I can buy another shirt, wench.” He grabbed her by the back of her head and kissed her hard. She reciprocated equally. She gave a nervous laugh and wrapped her arms around him. 

They went on kissing for several minutes until his arousal could no longer be ignored. He began to grind against her. She went with it, even breathed heavier. _So far, so good. Next step._ He removed his pants, or tried to with only one hand. She saw him struggling and helped, though her own hands shook a little. Once they were off he went to work removing hers. They came off quickly, Brienne seemed just as excited as he was. She was down to a shirt and her smallclothes. His hand explored between her legs, and she tensed.

“Do you mislike something?” He asked.

When she didn’t say anything he sat up and gave her a serious look. _Let’s address the big issue now._ “Brienne, You may wish to keep your maidenhead until you wed. I respect that. You should know that I yearn for you, but I have no desire to deny you choice. I only ask that you make your wishes clear to me.” _I’m so afraid of doing something you’ll regret, it terrifies me._

She gave another anxious look, blushing and puffing up like a threatened animal. He wished she wouldn’t be so uncomfortable about it, though it was still somehow endearing. He wanted her to change, yet he wanted her never to change.

“Noble ladies are expected to be maidens on their wedding night.” Brienne said broodingly. “My lord father would find it difficult to arrange a marriage to a man of equal rank if I’m not.”

She had that look on her face, the stern one she wore when someone laughed at her after discovering she was a woman. She got up from the bed, leaving him feeling cold without her presence. He feared the worst when she walked across the room. The cellar was too dark to see clearly beyond the candlelight. He squinted to follow her movements. Something fell to the floor. She might’ve thrown off a bit of clothing, he wasn’t sure. She stayed in shadow. He heard wine pouring. The goblet jittered in her shaky hand. With a tilt backwards she downed it impressively in a few loud gulps. 

He feared she wouldn’t come back to bed. He feared that she would. _Maybe I should tell her what Tywin thought of her. No, now’s not the time._

“We’re out of wine.” She said woodenly.

As if in reply, the door at the top of the stairs unlocked and creaked open. The clink of a bottle sounded from the floor and the door shut again. _Are they eavesdropping on us? Spying?_ He looked around at the walls.

“Hey!” Brienne shouted. Jaime was unsure what she meant to do. There was another locking noise at the door and the room fell silent again. 

Brienne was somewhere in the shadows. He could feel her stare. He took a deep breath and leaned his weight on an elbow. He could quip at the darkness, but he remembered the hurt look on her face at dinner when she had said she wasn’t used to being teased. _Not from you._ Those words made his heart sink. It made it harder to jape at her.

Suddenly she was there at the foot of the bed again, topless, and standing brazenly before him. Chiseled muscles as if cut from stone, shining in a flicker of warm candlelight. She began speaking, but it was difficult to understand her words at first because her small breasts were so perky and nipples hard. But he feared what she’d do to him if he didn’t pay attention, so he tried to focus on her words.

“I fight better than most men, and with me being” she paused. “…as ugly as I am, my father already gave up finding me a husband. I’ve never cared about what people think of me.” She seemed jumbled, randomly jumping from one thought to the next. “This war is claiming more lives every day. I don’t want to die a maiden. Jaime, even if I were to wed some callous lord from who-cares-where, I wouldn’t…” She paused, trying to find the words. “I’d rather it be you. No one else.”

“Then come here, wench.” He said in a low voice.

She leaned over, placed her hands on the bed and crawled up to him. She was more steady now and moved like a shadowcat about to pounce, about to devour its helpless prey. She placed her hands on his shoulders, pinning him down, and her face finally came up to his.

“Jaime…”

He remained motionless, frozen in anticipation, apprehension, and yearning. A hundred thoughts raced through his head in that single heartbeat. _What if I cannot gratify her? I have no idea what pleases her abed. She herself may not know._ He had known Cersei so well that performance had become almost habitual. Even so, there were a few times with Cersei that had been so underwhelming he would’ve preferred his own fist. That wouldn’t happen with Brienne. He hoped. He hadn’t expected to be so nervous about it. It wasn’t like him at all to be nervous. It all seemed so unknown to him, he felt almost a maid himself. So unlike him. _No, just curious to see what she’ll do._

He found himself again and he gave her the cool, smug half-smile in an attempt to best the sultry prowl she had just done. It didn’t break her. She looked down at him with a confidence and hunger that threatened to make him weep.

Finally she spoke again, “If this is a trick, if tomorrow I’m alone, I’ll hunt you down and…”

“…kill me.” He finished for her. “I know, Brienne. I have no doubt you would.”

She looked seriously at him, looked deep into his eyes. “Good. You’re mine now. And I am yours.”

When she moved down to kiss him it reminded him of how smooth and practiced her movements could be with a sword in her hand. She removed his golden hand and kissed his stump. She kissed his mouth again and let her hips drop down and rested her weight on him. He could feel his cock pressing hard between her legs.

Suddenly her smallclothes were off. They were both naked as their namedays. All he could focus on was the feel of her bare skin burning against his. Everywhere. For a moment he wondered if it was the right decision to give her maidenhead to the Kingslayer.

He was dizzy. Her abrupt shift from nervousness to wanton control shattered his virtuous-knight aspect that he had been using to keep back his arousal. _Finally._

He rolled her on her back. Her large hands pulled his shoulders against hers. She grabbed his cock and in turn he snaked his good hand up her thigh and pulled her open so he could more easily enter. When he was positioned he kissed her deeply. Slowly, and somewhat roughly, she pulled him inside her. It was the best feeling he ever experienced, the tip of him going inside her. So hot, so wet, so tight.

She gasped loudly. He kissed her chin, nibbled her ear, sucked hard on her thick neck. She grabbed his hips to push him up and back down on her again and again. He had expected her to be in more pain at first, but he realized it was probably nothing compared to the pains she had felt in so many horrible battles. So much pain she’d gone through, he wanted to give her pleasure to make up for it all.

His hand crept to her front, at the thick coarse hair bellow her naval and then down. He slipped two fingers around the hood of her clit. He recalled the movements she had made when she pleasured herself under the covers the previous night. He mirrored them, which elicited lewd moaning from her and he knew he'd done it right. Her pace quickened and she squeezed him, with her arms and with her cunt. She made a few loud groans and then her legs were trembling. He slowed his pace to allow her to recover, but she hugged him back inside her. She dug her heals into his lower back.

 _Gods, she’s strong._ At first it felt strange and surprising, almost distracting. He had only known how to bed Cersei, who was nothing if not feminine. But after a while his own muscles rushed to meet the challenge of fighting against hers. Her strength filled his own. She made him want to be better at being a man. 

As strong as she was, Brienne was as equally gentle. Even more than Cersei. Though without his twin’s grace, Brienne had a tenderness of emotion that had been foreign to Cersei. Brienne was a contradiction, a mystery that kept his thoughts constantly swirling around her.

Jaime whispered sweet words in her ear and stroked her gently. She turned her head away and she shoved him.

“No more words.” She commanded. “Just keep going.” 

Their bodies kissed and sprang apart and kissed again. Jaime’s blood was singing. This was what he was meant for; he never felt so alive as when he was fighting or fucking, with life affirmed on every thrust.

In and out, plunging so hard that their bodies jolted when they came together, shoving, driving back into each other, always rutting, moving into her, push and pull, nibbling, gripping, faster, faster, faster.

Boards in the bead creaked, nails scraped, and the woman started grunting at every thrust.

Though not sure why, he was reminded of their first fight in the Riverlands. _Wonder if she wouldn’t mind being the one in chains next time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have future chapters fully planned out, just a general outline of gratuitous sex. So any input you give is appreciated, even if it's something small like correcting bad grammar. (I don't have a proof reader)  
> I'd prefer to be corrected than to keep making the same mistakes. This community is super nice and amazing, but I've got tough skin -- I can take it!


	5. Brienne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is sex still happening? Yes, yes it is. Nothing could possibly ruin it, right?  
> …Get ready for feels.
> 
> J&B return to the road and are welcomed as guests at the holdfast of an exotic foreign lady. Brienne is upset, but can Jaime say the three little words to fix it?

It soothed her mind. Strangely, she felt as if she were set free; as if she had been in a cage her whole life. One of her own making, with bars she never saw or even knew existed.

Nothing her septa or the over-talkative ladies told her had properly prepared her. Nor for this. Something inside her was growing wild. The sensation crashed over her again and again until it destroyed her control, her ability to process. All that was left was just _feeling_.

As much fun as it was, it was equally exhausting. They rested for a few minutes, just holding one another. Though it was still morning, they drifted to a light sleep in each others arms.

She was awoken by the noise of the door closing again. She sat up and looked around. Nobody else was there except a tranquil Jaime. Some of the candles had gone out. She looked to the floor. 

“Jaime!” She shook his shoulder. “They took our clothes!” There was naught but dusty tracks where their clothes had fallen.

Jaime pulled Brienne back down. “Oh no, whatever are we to do?” His voice dripped with sarcasm. Despite her worries over the stolen belongings, his kiss started the fire all over again.

He wrapped her in his arms and kissed the freckles on her face, then down her neck. She moaned and grabbed his hips. He caressed her breasts and stomach until she told him she wanted him inside her. He tried to tease her a bit longer, but she wrapped her legs around him and pulled him inside her.

When it was over a few hours later, they lay breathless beside each other. She felt good, like after a hot bath that relaxes all the knots out of the muscles. Jaime was out of breath and the short pained pants escaping from Jaime’s mouth drew her concern. She had been a bit forceful abed, shoving him around. She might’ve hurt him. He might think of her as less womanly, if he ever thought her much of a woman to begin with. 

“Did I hurt you?” Brienne asked. To her surprise, Jaime laughed. His smile brought that familiar flutter in her gut. He flew at her again, kissing everywhere.

They fucked again. It was even better now that Brienne knew what to expect, adapting herself with how things moved and where bits went. He used his mouth prodigiously this time, which seemed vulgar at first but then became amazing. He made no inclination that she should use her mouth in a similar manner, which was fine with her because all she really wanted was his cock back at the hollow wanting between her legs.

They lay panting in the sweat-soaked bed. The blankets and pillows had all fallen to the floor and it was just their two bodies entwined together, the only things in world. She looked up at the shadows in the ceiling and tried to think clearly. Her body was tired, aching, but it was a good kind of tired. She could tell she would be sore tomorrow, riding horse would be problematic.

“Tell me, wench,” Jaime sneered. “what did you enjoy most?”

She called back to everything Jaime had just done to her, and everything she had done to Jaime. She was curious about what new things they might do next time. She was shy about it so she whispered in his ear, “I liked the part where you used your hand while still inside me, and then switched to your mouth quickly and back and forth. Though it did make me, umm… well you know what I mean …rather quickly. I’m not sure if I like it to happen that fast.”

“I know what you mean.” He whispered back in her ear. “But I enjoy hearing you say such things.”

Brienne looked down. “I feel… kind of dirty.”

“I can try calling for a bath.” His voice was peaceful.

That wasn’t quite what she meant. But it made her think of something else. She didn’t really want to face the knowing giggles of the barmaids right now anyway.

“No,” she smiled impishly at Jaime “but the river is just outside if we can get the door open.”

He couldn’t hide the shock in his face, but he was up the stairs before she could grab something to cover herself.

She scrambled after him. Jaime gave the door a shove, and it opened on the first try. “It’s unlocked.” He peaked his head out of the doorway to look around. When he turned back his face was full of amusement.

“Well?” She asked.

“They’re all passed out.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her through the back of the tavern, tip-toeing around a few sleeping patrons. From somewhere came a muffled giggle, but Brienne couldn’t determine where. She blushed, tried to cover herself with her arms, and darted faster to the back door. Outside it was dark, which astonished Brienne.

“It’s night already?”

“We rutted the day away.” Jaime beamed at her. “C’mon!”

They ran through the grass to the river, still naked as their namedays.

Their secret nude bathing in the dark night went undiscovered. The water was cold but invigorating. 

Afterwards they snuck back toward the Inn and found their belongings in an unlocked chest near the kitchen. They rushed up to their room they paid for and barred the door. Brienne was feeling re-exhilarated from the shivering chill and risk of being seen. She thought they might even have sex again but once she was warm under the furs she felt pangs of hunger. She fought against it, and pulled Jaime close enough to feel his hair scratching her nipples.

“Jaime, tell me something.” She wanted to hear his voice again. Even if he mocked her. It couldn’t hurt her now, whatever he said.

“What?”

“I don’t know. Tell me something sweet before we have to leave this place.” She laid her head on his chest. Whatever he said, she knew it would be honest. That’s what she loved most about him: he didn’t have the strength to lie to her, even if it was cruel or hurtful. Whatever he said would be true. 

“Hmmm, something sweet… I’m not the best wordsmith. Perhaps you should bed a bard next time.” She growled and balled a fist with a few of his chest hairs in it.

“Alright, alright!” He exclaimed. “A moment to think please.” She relaxed her hand and brushed her lips lightly along his chin.

After a moments he spoke, “I wrote you into my page in the White Book. Did I tell you that?”

“No.”

“Is that something sweet?”

“Better.” She hugged him tightly. “As long as it didn’t say _wench_." She glared at him. "...Did it?”

“Haha. No, my lady.”

Though her body was near-exhausted, her mind was sprinting through clouds. Everything had gone so well, at least so she thought. He had so many maneuvers abed, things she had never thought of in her own lonely fantasies. She wondered how he learned so many things. _Did he visit brothels he never told me about?_ She had to ask. 

“Who taught you all those things? You’re so good at them.” As soon as she finished the question, she realized her mistake. She’d forgotten.

He cleared his throat. She panicked, tried to think of something to stop him from saying Cersei’s name, from _thinking_ her name. He spared her. “Soldiers sing some very bawdy tales.”

It calmed her a bit, but the seed had been planted. She began thinking of how prettier Cersei was than her, of all the things Cersei must’ve done for him abed, things she hadn’t done, things she might not even be able to imagine. Then she realized the possibility that their fucking might not have been as pleasurable for him as it was for her. She couldn’t tell, she had no other experiences to compare it. _What was a man supposed to look like when in his pleasures?_

He looked down at her and his head tilted to the side with a concerned expression. She hadn’t been aware she had begun to cry, and he had felt the tear land on his chest. _Stupid girl. Stupid tears. Now I have to explain to him…_

“I can’t compete with Cersei.” She blurted, and immediately wished she hadn’t. Sometimes she wished she could split herself in two, and fight the awkward-girl-half with a large sharp sword.

“Oh hush, wench.” He grabbed her face and kissed her. It helped a little. “She no longer matters to me.” He gave her a severe look, one that pierced her deeply. “I’m going to entrust you with a secret, but you must swear never to use it unless absolutely necessary.”

She nodded and tried to blink away the tears that had formed.

“If you ever doubt my feelings for you,” he said. “just look into my eyes and call me ‘Ser Jaime’. You’ll see for yourself how I feel about you.”

“Can I… can I try it now?” She felt childish asking him, fearing the whole thing to be a mummer’s farce.

He took a deep breath. “Go on then.”

“Tell me, Ser Jaime,” Her voice cracked. “That you need me.”

His eyes welled up and his lip quivered in an honest way that she was sure couldn’t have been faked. The lump on his throat dipped up and down. He might’ve even _trembled_. The look would’ve been humiliating for him if it wasn’t causing something inside her to swell. A flash of light through the window lit the room and a moment later a loud crash of thunder split the air.

He told her that he needed her, then kissed her in a way that reminded her of their first kiss. He told her many more things that made her go weak in his arms. The compliments came too rapidly for her to remember them all, but a few she noted and would cherish forever. They were: “Your taste is sweet as a peach”, “your smile is like an afternoon breeze”, “your kisses are warmer than spring” and, “your voice is soft like summer rain.”

Sleep threatened to claim them again. She was going to snuggle close to him, but he beat her to it. Brienne stayed up listening to his heartbeat after Jaime had fallen asleep. She would have been content to lie there with him the rest of the night, but the stomach pains screamed at her to find food. She gently pulled away from him and the warm bed. Jaime shivered and drew the furs to his chin. She paused, one leg in her breeches, to admire the sleeping lion.

Jaime began whimpering in a dream. When he said, “Cersei”, Brienne couldn't stop crying.

 

***

They returned to the road the next day after saying awkward goodbyes to the Innkeep and her giddy servant girls. Though Brienne wasn’t as anxious around him as she had been during their ride to the Bawdy Badger, she knew he could read the sadness in her face when they broke their fast and saddled their horses. She didn’t care. She paid no mind to the soreness between her legs during the ride, she could only think of the strange grief from what he did in his sleep after such a wonderful day. She pushed it down, forced it away, and then looked back at Jaime and wished he were naked again and touching her. Her prurient thoughts inevitably led back to his sister and she grew sad again. The day went by quietly, for the most part, with Brienne battling inside her own head.

He finally asked. “What is it that bothers you, my lady?” 

She could only shake her head and shrug her shoulders. _If I talk about this right now I won’t be able to keep myself from crying. Don’t let him see you cry. Not him._

Mercifully, he changed the subject. “There’s a castle over there. Do you see it?” He pointed to a hill that rose above the trees. It was small, not much more than two towers and a wall, but looked pleasant enough.

“Yes, I see it.” She squinted into the setting sun. “That’s Amberruse.” It looked busy; riders darted to and fro through the gates and smoke billowed from chimneys. “I thought Amberruse was abandoned after Robert’s Rebellion.”

“It was. I was told a foreigner was granted lordship over the holdfast during the Greyjoy Rebellion.”

“Told by whom?”

“Lot.” Jaime said simply. “The Innkeep recommended we stay there tonight.”

“I think I’ve had enough of their sort.”

“Lot sent word ahead of us. We’re expected. The roads aren’t safe at night with the war and all. We should stay there tonight. We’re in the Reach, and last I checked Lannisters and Tyrells were still allies.”

“Fine.” She said shortly. He furrowed his brow at her, but didn’t push the issue. 

“You’ll be expected to dress like a lady.” He warned.

She sighed with exasperation. “Yes, I know.” She stared forward at the road ahead, avoiding his gaze.

“If the dress is long enough,” Jaime said quietly “you could wear your breeches under it. If it would make you more comfortable.” She couldn’t help but look at him. He continued, “You'll still be dressed like a man underneath and nobody will know. Except you and I of course.” 

The look in his eyes was tender, yet wary. He was genuinely trying to be helpful, to make her feel better even though he didn’t know what he had done. _Damn you. Let me hate you or love you, not both. You’re tearing me apart, Jaime!_

The Roseroad forked and they turned towards Amberruse. They rounded a bend and came upon three armed men standing in the road. One whetted a large greatsword. Brienne and Jaime moved hands to hilts simultaneously. The second man carried a banner, a red tongue on a pink field. She didn’t recognize it.

“Best be turnin’ back ‘round now,” the man with the greatsword said. “lest we force ye to.” He hefted his weapon over his broad shoulders.

Jaime looked at Brienne. He smiled and nodded as if to say _‘Go ahead, wench.’_

Brienne turned to the man. “You’d try.” She drew Oathkeeper, and Jaime followed suite.

“Bwahaha!” The swordsman bellowed and pointed at Brienne. “Are ye a woman?!” He continued laughing. "Gods, yer ugly!"

Jaime gritted his teeth and growled, “You’re speaking to a highborn lady, you lackwit. Apologize, and beg her forgiveness.”

“An' who are ye,” the proud man said, “that I must be bowin' so low?”

“Just a one-handed man with a longsword, I suppose.” Jaime tossed a knowing smirk back at Brienne.

The man held his greatsword with both hands, brandishing it towards Jaime. “Aye, and mine be long an' sharp, m'lord, longer an' sharper than yers.”

The third man stepped between them and spoke for the first time. He held a hand up towards the swordsman and turned to Brienne. “Where do you come from?”

“The Bawdy Badger.” She replied confidently.

“Forgive us Lady Brienne,” the man holding the banner spoke, “the roads are filled with cutthroats and broken men. Lady Wai-Dee is expecting you.” The two men stood aside first, and the swordsman slowly followed, glowering at Jaime the whole time. Jaime just gave him a warm smile and rode on.

Their welcome at the holdfast was much warmer. They were greeted at the gate by a young lady who Brienne mistook to be Lady Wai-Dee at first.

“Oh no, I’m her guest.” The woman corrected. “You may call my Guile.” She had a mischievous look about her, like the one Brienne had seen at the women of the Bawdy Badger. “Allow me to escort you to Lady Wai-Dee in the great hall. Or perhaps you’d prefer me to lead you to your guest rooms. You must be tired from your …travels.” She giggled.

“I’m curious to meet the lady if you don’t mind.” Jaime said.

“Very well. Afterwards I’d like to introduce you to another friend of mine. Jody.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Brienne said quickly. “We are very tired from our journey.” Guile frowned, obviously disappointed. She led them to a hall with a large table set for a welcoming feast.

The lady of Amberruse sat straight-backed in the high seat of the room. She had exotic looks that made Brienne a bit uneasy. Above the seat was the pink sigil they’d seen before. Below the crest was the words, “Valar Candilicus.” Brienne didn’t know what that meant, but she suspected it was High Valyrian. _Foreign indeed._ She thought to herself.

“Ser Jaime and Lady Brienne, I presume. Lot sent a runner to tell me of your stay here.” Lady Wai-Dee said. Brienne couldn’t place her accent.

“Just Brienne, if it please. I’m no lady.”

Wai-Dee smiled. “You’re just as Chickey described you. Oh, ....don’t tell Lot I was talking to Chickey, if you would. She'll be cross with me.” She turned to Jaime. “And Lord Commander, it’s an honor to meet you.” 

“It’s an honor to be welcomed by you, my lady.” Jaime said, uncharacteristically cordial. 

_Maybe I’m rubbing off on him._ She thought. _Or maybe he’s just happy to not be called Kingslayer for once._

“I’m told you Westerosi are concerned with something called Guest Right. I’ve had my cocks …ahem, excuse me. My _cooks_ prepare a feast to welcome you. Simple bread and salt would not be enough to receive such guests.”

They traded expected pleasantries over roast duck and Wai-Dee toasted wine to their merriment. Not once did she bring up the topic of Brienne dressing as a lady. Throughout the dinner Brienne tried to avoid looking at Jaime too much. Either he made her want to tear off his clothes or he made her think of Cersei. It was maddening. 

The meal ended and Wai-Dee excused herself after saying, “Guile will show you to your rooms. Sleep tight, don’t let the drop bears bite.” Again, Brienne was confused by the foreigner's manners of speech.

They followed Guile up several flights of stairs. Jaime’s room faced hers. She turned to her door and left him with a simple “Goodnight.” The room was large, with a comfortable feather bed that could fit three people and a sturdy-looking table in the center of the room. The window overlooked what she expected to be a beautiful view of the verdant Reach, though now it was too dark to see anything but stars. There was a large hearth that was already burning.

Jaime followed her in without breaking stride. He closed the door behind him.

“Jaime…” Brienne stopped him. 

“I thought you didn’t care what others think?”

“No. I can’t…” She was flustered. Words danced on the tip of her tongue but escaped before she could say them aloud. He stepped close to her, close enough to embrace, but she stepped back. She felt exhausted, more from the emotional turmoil and resisting his advances than the day’s ride, sore as it was. She sat on the table because the bed would be too suggestive.

“What in the bloody hells is wrong, wench?” Jaime was angry now. “Is it such a tragedy to lose your maidenhood to the Kingslayer?!”

It was the _wench_ that did it. She jerked to her feet as if he’d hit her. _I might hit him._ He stood his ground, though his eyes widened like a scolded child’s.

“My name…”

“…Is Brienne. Yes, yes. Must we continue in circles forever?” He backed down and moved to the hearth and stoked it with an iron poker.

Brienne’s jaw clenched. Inside her head the voices fought each other. _It’s not his fault, he doesn’t even know why I’m mad at him. It is his fault! He called her name in his sleep. At least it wasn’t during the bedding. He lied when he said Cersei no longer mattered to him. It was likely a nightmare; she haunts him. Stop being a fool and go over there and kiss him. Kick him out and go to sleep with the door barred._

Brienne gathered her thoughts. Finally calm, she walked over to him. “I need you to do two things right now.” She said strongly. “First, Say something nice.”

Jaime dropped the poker and stood up. “Why? What’s going on with you?”

She couldn’t say it aloud. She could barely admit it to herself. But she knew if she stayed quiet for too long the mordant remarks would begin again in order to dig it out of her, and she couldn’t bare any more hurt right now. Not from him.

She made her face stone and turned her blood to ice so she wouldn’t break down in tears or bash him brutally. She wanted him to face what he had done to her. “You called her name in your sleep.”

His face dropped and he nearly doubled over as if she had kicked him in the gut. _Good, at least he’s remorseful._

“Brienne, I…” He opened his arms to embrace her.

She stood firm, resolute, and resisted the hug. _I’m not so shameless yet as to bow to your kisses and thrusting._

“A nightmare, nothing more. I no longer carry any desire for her.” He paused, brow furrowed in thought. His eyes bounced between hers. “I know you’re not as fair-faced, and I don’t care. I want you. I’ve wanted you since Harrenhal. I could never not want you, no matter how much I tried. I’ll want you tomorrow, Brienne.” He walked towards her. His voice was low and sensuous. “Tomorrow, next fortnight, and the winter after.” His eyes were provocative. “I have no other words to convince you that you’re the one, the woman whom I long for, I _yearn_ for. Brienne, I…”

_Stay firm._ She thought.

“Dammit, Brienne. I love you.” He said it with all the sincerity and frankness in all the realms.

Her knees wobbled, buckled. She tried to hide it and prayed that he didn’t see. “Why do you love me? I’m not pretty, or rich, or... or as graceful. ...Ser Jaime.” Her voice held a sourness that threatened to turn to screams or sobs or both. _If you jape right now I swear I’ll get on the horse bareback and you’ll never see me again. Oaths or not._

Jaime didn’t flinch or pause for thought, “Your innocence. It’s almost impossible to find someone as innocent as you in all the Seven Kingdoms. Even though some people might consider that a weakness, it’s a strength, Brienne. I love you for staying pure, in a world where the most difficult thing to do is remain that. Again, Brienne. I love you. You big lunk.”

_Yes, that’ll do._ It wasn’t exactly what she was searching for, but she wasn’t sure what she was searching for exactly.

“Well, what was the second thing?” He asked.

She remembered. “Stop talking. I can’t be around you when you have your clothes on.” She helped him undress.

The table stood between them and the bed. He backed her up until she sat on it again, kissing her passionately without pause or relent. Suddenly she was horizontal on the table. _He’s conquering me._ He entered her, all hot and beautiful and golden. The thrusting began, and she couldn’t help herself from gripping his back.

He was trying to be gentle, but he didn’t need to. “Faster.” She heard herself whispering into his ear. The energy rose with each thrust. 

It wasn’t enough. “More!” She cried.

He didn't give her more. Instead he asked in a growl, “Who am I, Brienne?”

She pulled at him and moaned, “Lord Commander Jaime Lannister!” 

He pushed into her as much as she pulled him. She cry out, “Oh gods, Jaime!”

He was straining with only one hand to utilize, which made for slightly awkward actions, but she didn’t care. She was used to awkward. She was enjoying it regardless. “More!” She howled again. He bent his knees for leverage and thrust harder. _Yes, that’s it, deeper._

“I’m…” She tried to tell him.

“Yes! Me …too!” He grunted. “…Together!”

It was wonderful. She was breathless and he kept kissing her. Eventually they made it to the bed and began again.

 

***

A knock at the door awoke her. The morning sun shined through the window. Brienne didn’t remember falling asleep. She was holding Jaime in her large arms. She wanted to kiss his adorable stupid lips but the knocking continued.

Jaime grumbled and buried his head under a pillow to avoid the light. Brienne chuckled and rose to cover herself.

Guile was at the door, holding a bowl of grapes. “Last night the Lord Commander told me to bring these to break your fast.” She handed the bowl to Brienne. “I woke you, I know. I’m sorry. But I wouldn’t want him to … _chastise me_.” She leaned in an odd way and Brienne shut the door in her face. 

Brienne was shocked. She starred at the grapes. Then at Jaime, and back to the grapes. _My favorite. How did he know that? Probably the same way he knew my measurements for the armor he made for me back at King’s Landing. He must’ve sent ravens to Tarth. I’ll need to have words with the Maester of Evenfall for giving out my personal information with such ease._

She ate a handful of grapes and put the bowl on the table. She if he’d be willing to go for another round. _He better be._ She smiled widely and rushed back to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Allusions, in-jokes, and references: (can you catch 'em all?)  
> \- Fifth Element  
> \- Dornishman’s Wife ...Because I'm bad at writing original romantic dialogue.  
> \- Jolene by Dolly Parton  
> \- The Room  
> \- Rains of Castamere  
> \- Bawdy Badger is a canon Inn, but Amberruse is non-canon.  
> \- Moar guest stars from the J/B podcast!  
> \- [Candy Licker](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1328386) by MotherofFirkins  
> \- Batman '66  
> \- Rocky Horror  
> \- Places to Rest by Riki Lindhome
> 
> That bit about “Ser Jaime” and the “I love you” scenes make me a little misty-eyed every time. I hope they carry the same impact for the readers.


	6. Jaime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We rejoin our heroes back on the road after departing from Amberruse Castle, where they’ve set up camp for the night.

He pinned her against an oak. Again he thought of their first swordfight. His hand caressed down to her upper thigh to feel the scar his sword had left there.

She brought her hips up to meet his, driving his lust to uncontrollable heights. He grabbed her arse with his good hand, and wrapped his right arm around her waist. He tried to increase the pace, grinding her faster. A deep grumble escaped his throat, part growl, part moan. He wished he had the hand back, and the strength to toss her around as if she were a petite and supple maid.

Once during a secret tryst with Cersei his passion rose high enough that he deftly picked her up and held her in the air while still inside her. Her arms draped around his neck but what actually kept her aloft was his strong grip on the cheeks of her ass. The surprise of the sudden position shift made Cersei yelp, which only drove him harder. The display of his masculine strength and the weight of her body on his member made her climax quickly, and hard. He had loved that he could bring her so quickly with that position.

But he needed two hands to do that.

He tried not to think of Cersei anymore, especially while naked with Brienne. He could easily forced them away, but he couldn’t stop the thoughts from arriving. Though this time he was more mourning the loss of his hand, not his twin.

As if she could read his mind, Brienne’s sad eyes pulled Jaime away. He realized he had slowed down and his grip about her waist had loosened. _No, she’ll think she did something wrong. She’ll blame her inexperience and we can’t have that._ With a shake of his head Jaime rid his mind of the distraction and kissed Brienne tenderly before she could ask if something was wrong. He had to play this in a way that kept her wanton. 

He pushed her to the grass and entered her again. Mindfully, he withdrew his cock almost completely. His grip on her hips allowed him to keep the woman from stopping the retreat. Slowly, he thrust into her again, but only halfway, and withdrew once more. He took a deep breath and kept looking into her astonishing eyes in an attempt to control her breathing too. After a few shallow but controlled movements, he slowly pushed his entire length inside her. He focused on tensing all his muscles, and pushed her hard against him. His teeth raked her smooth neck. 

Brienne’s reaction confirmed he had successfully thrown off the distraction. She shivered and gasped at the same time, creating a set of pleasing sounds broken up by her shudders. It was like her teeth were chattering and she could only inhale. He grinned and brought his face close to view her expression.

Brienne’s surprise quickly turned to hungry lust. She grimaced, pumped hard against him, and shut her eyes with a groan. She grabbed his hips with her hands then brought her heels up above his buttocks. This kept him from pulling out at all, keeping him inside. She pushed herself back and forth, grinding them together. He always loved it when she did this. His cock felt like a stirring stick and he almost came inside her. He had to shout at Brienne to get her let go before it was too late.

They chuckled together there, in the messy grass. 

“I’m thirsty.” Brienne lurched to her feet. They hadn’t managed to completely rid her of her clothing, and a few pieces hung askew. Her face and chest blossomed a deep red with exertion and lust. She was all sweat and bark along her backside. 

_Gods be good… she looks even better dirty._ Jaime thought to himself. She lumbered away from the glow of the campfire to grab a waterskin out of the saddlebags. Moonlight caressed her long limbs, outlining her physique in the darkness. A phrase came to Jaime’s mind that always brought a wolfish smile to his lips: _She cuts a striking silhouette._ Though the phrase was normally used to politely describe a buxom lady, nothing else came to mind while he watched the Lady of Tarth move across the grass. Her muscles flexed like a wildcat with each step.

Brienne tilted her head back and drank deep. Her clumsiness caused streams of water to escape her swollen lips and snake down her chest. _Oh don’t do that you fool, you know not what you do._ The cool water perked her nipples, and prickled her skin with gooseflesh. The spill continued to explore down her body. Jaime was thirsty too, so very thirsty for more of her.

In an instant he was up again, sprinting towards the warrior woman. Startled, Brienne dropped the waterskin and instinctively fell back in a defensive stance as if Jaime attacking her. _I suppose I am, in a way._ Though she grabbed one of his wrists before he could slip it around her leg, Jaime was able to overpower her. Once she realized what he was doing she relaxed.

It had only been a few heartbeats from watching the water drip down her toned torso, but he was inside her again and thrusting, laying in the cool dewy grass.

 

***

The wench threatened him to get back on the road. The ground they slept on was rocky and uncomfortable, but he would’ve preferred to spend the day rutting in the woods than riding again. The road was dusty and boring, and the sun was too bright without the cover of trees.

The sound of riders on the road stopped their argument. They were still half-naked, and within earshot of the road, though out of eyesight. Brienne went for her pants. Jaime didn’t care, so he grabbed his sword instead and darted toward a large bush with a good vantage point over oncoming travelers.

“Jaime!” Brienne whispered when she caught up to him, still lacing her breeches. Half an army marched down the road, armed and armored.

“I just want to see who it is. Don’t worry about…” He was halfway through a jape when he stopped suddenly. The fiery hart banner chilled his blood. He almost turned Brienne away before she could see it too.

“Stannis!” Brienne said. The wench stood up, and Jaime tackled her back to the ground. She struggled and jabbed him painfully, but he wrestled her down anyway.

“You big dumb wench! Look at all those guards! You think you can kill all of them in only your breeches?” Jaime tried to keep his voice as quiet as possible but his anger and fear almost made it a shout. Brienne stilled, but the defiant expression remained on her face. _Damn the wench, and damn me for loving her._

“But Renly… Stannis…” She stuttered.

“I know, I know. You’ll get your vengeance, I promise. But not this way. We’ll follow him and get in quiet. Be smart about it, wench. Trust me.”

Her face finally softened and her chin rose in that knightly way. “I trust you.”

He wanted to kiss her, but instead he released his grip and quietly led her back to their horses. Saddling up went much quicker than it had been only a few minutes ago, and Jaime didn’t offer a single protest. He knew what this meant to her, and how it might go if he let her run in headstrong. They were back on the road and tailing the ends of Stannis’ contingent without sharing words. They were headed south in the direction they came up the Roseroad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an ending in mind now, so things are gonna wrap up soon.


End file.
